The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

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Re: The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

Postby helios » Wed Dec 02, 2009 12:05 am

Batman and I are close to the clown. He just kicked the dragon clear across Wasusy. The last time I saw such power was the one time I saw Kara El fight Ms. Mxyzptlk. There's no way we can hold him for long. Our only chance is to find someway to end it. I nod at Batman.
We leap up at the clown, and fling swing-lines around him.
"FOOLS! YOU THINK YOU CAN STOP ME?" He yells, his eyes wide.
"No. But we'd be damned if he didn't try." I Grunt out, struggling to hold the end of the line. Over on the other side of the clown, Batman is struggling too. The clown has increadible power.
He starts to try to raise his hand.
Lightning cracks across the sky. The rift widens, and fractures. No longer a long, throbbing scar across the Wasusy sky, it is now a thousand points of pain across a bruised purple sky.
"Wasusy ends. And you could not stop it. Couldn't stop my revenge." The clown giggles.
I feel a tearing, as if I'm being pulled away. I look at Batman. He looks stretched. I realise we're being sent home. Back where we belonged, away from this Wasusy.
"It has been good fighting with you." He grunted at me, his voice far away, echoy.
"Indeed it has." I grunted back, struggling to hold on to the line, as the clown cakled madly.
I felt a sudden lightness, and I realise I am no longer here. My only connection is the line in my hand, with the clown acting as an anchor in this madness. The rift I am being drawn to is pulling me harder and harder, and the same is happening to Batman.
Suddenly, the clown screams in pain. I shoot into the rift, my line still holding onto something. I look.
Parts of the clown are following me. Not dismembered or bloody. They just... Ended.
I sped into my home dimension, staring in horror as the clown disintergrated into the nothing between.
I landed in the batcave, my line arrayed around me. There was no sign of the clown.

Mr Mxyzptlk stalked the hallway between worlds. The one who had stolen his power was gone. He stopped in front of the ruined door of what had become the battle dimension.
The inhabitants of this world fought well. He thought. He raised his hand.

He walked away from the door. No longer was it ruined. No longer did the world withing bear the scars of the climactic battle that had just passed. It was, well, not fixed. It was, perhaps, returned to stability.
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Re: The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

Postby Camoninja » Thu Dec 03, 2009 9:32 pm

Mental note: being shocked really hurts.
Maybe I should get a notebook to write all of these notes down. I’d made one about getting a new place to stay earlier, and then maybe one about guns? Mental note: buy a notebook

I opened my eyes. My vision wasn’t very blurry, although I was on the floor, and slightly bruised. I wondered how much electricity that dog had sent through me. I remembered hearing somewhere that it takes only a very small amount of electricity to kill you, but hopefully most of that had gone into the dog and not into me. For a moment I wanted to check his pulse, but I decided against that. No one could survive a throat wound like I had given him, immediately followed by electrocution. Besides, there was too much blood, and I was still pretty shaken. I would just rest here on the floor for a little while more, and then go back to my unspeakable motel room. There was definitely not anything more I could do tonight. The best I could hope for was to get a little sleep, although it would probably be more comfortable on the floor than on the motel mattress.

Bang bang bang.

Ugh. Who was disturbing me? I had been just about ready to get up, and now I had a headache. Or maybe I had already had a headache, and I just hadn’t noticed it. In any case, there probably wasn’t much more benefit in lying here. I propped myself up on an arm, and brought myself to my feet. After a moment of vertigo, I started feeling better. Most likely I had been over dramatizing my injuries, in the first place.

Bang bang bang.

Oh yeah, there was a kid in here. That’s why I had killed the dog, in the first place. The kid was making that banging, in all likelihood, unless there was someone else in here as well. I supposed that now he needed rescuing. It was the least I could do, now that I had gotten involved. It was easy to locate him in the small apartment, and I unstuck the door with a firm kick. I was immediately greeted by the sight of a bloody form, sitting on the floor, staring up at me, dumbfounded.

“Come on, kid. Get up.” I thrust out my hand for him to take. The kid, still shocked, began to offer up his injured arm. Giving an exasperated sigh at this, I grabbed his other arm and pulled him to his feet.

“I- wha- Who are you?” He stammered out.

“Your guardian freakin’ angel,” I replied. “Come on, I don’t wanna hang around.” I turned and walked out into the main room, and the kid followed, quietly. He gave a start at seeing the dead dog on the floor, in a pool of blood, but I ignored him.

"D-did you do that?”

“No, it was a magical fairy.” I was not in a good mood.

The kid was probably annoyed at this comment, but he let it go and moved on. “Really, though, what should I call you?”

“If it’s really so important to you, you can all me Caimo.” This was my surname, and he seemed to accept it.

Just as I was about to walk out the door, I noticed something on the table. Cash. Quite a bit of it, actually.

Finally, I cracked a smile, muttering to myself, “Well, I guess that dog was good for something after all.”

I’m not sure whether the kid heard me, or whether he picked up on my intentions from seeing me head for the money, but he suddenly fired up

“Hey, you can’t take that! It’s Pearl’s! The dog man stole it from her!”

I turned and glared at the kid for a moment, before going back to gathering up the cash. Without looking at him, I said “Listen, kid. My sense of morality can only be stretched so much. Be thankful I got you out of there in the first place, instead of just letting you bleed out. And by the way,” I gestured vaguely behind me, “you might want to bandage up that wound.”

The kid was probably angry, but he didn’t say anything more. I turned to the door, all of the money safely within my pockets, and walked out. By the time I reached the end of the alley, the kid ran up behind me, holding a pillowcase.

“Hey,” he said, slightly breathlessly “can you show me how to bandage this properly?” He sounded terrified.

I gave another sigh, and was about to tie the pillowcase around his injury when suddenly there was a huge rumbling roaring sound all around. I quickly looked in all directions, but could see nothing. Then my gaze fell upwards, and my jaw fell open. I had heard of weird stuff happening in Wasusy before, but I don’t think there was any record in history of the sky literally tearing open. This was, to put it lightly, a little much for me to handle at the moment. I had to sit down.
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Re: The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

Postby xkazzoo » Thu Dec 03, 2009 10:25 pm

We're off to see the Wizard, the wonderful Wizard of Oz.
Because, Because, Because, Because...









"Judy Garland!"

"What?"

"Oh, sorry, I'm having flashbacks again."

Warren, if you could, please stop doing that, it's probably the reason for the recent bouts of head trauma we've been experiencing. He glares at me through the back of my mind, angry, but for some reason hesitating from continuing to antagonize me. Looks like he can sense it too. The sudden drop in atmospheric pressure. The same feeling you get right before it rains. I motion for us to stop. Bella starts to object, but then she senses it, too. She must have some better senses than I, though, because she looks straight up, finding the source of the weirdness immediately. Before either me or Billy can get a good look at whatever other-worldly deviations are occurring over our heads, the whole world starts to distort, like jello. And we are just the chunks of banana and strawberry in the mix.

All of existence is doing The Twist right now, and it's not an overall enjoyable experience. I'm getting woozy, I always got bad motion sickness, and I would consider this "motion". The lights are starting to dim, I'm falling, damn me and my constant lack of consciousness. Looks like I'll just have to sit and play 20 questions with my favorite mook in the world.

Warren:

Okay, does he wear a cape?

Franco:

God dammit.
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Re: The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

Postby the_crankmaster » Thu Dec 03, 2009 11:35 pm

As expected, not everyone sees things the way I do. Maybe this Caimo character could use a conscience whistle of his own. Speaking of which, mine is gone. I've lost the symbol of Paco's kindness which I'll probably never be able to repay. I can't even repay Pearl's. Caimo leaves the apartment, and on his recomendation I grab something to wrap my arm up and I follow him out. He's about to help me with it when of all things the sky rips open. I am not having a good day.

"Holy...." the guy mutters as he falls to a sitting position. I want to do the same, but if my arm doesn't get taken care of then maybe the next time I sit down I wont have the strength to stand back up again.

"Hey," I insist, shoving my arm in his face. "If you could just finish this you can freak out as much as you want." He's still watching the sky, and no wonder. There's a booming voice I can't be bothered to pay attention to and people streaming out. He wraps my arm, not paying attention to what he's doing. He doesn't need to; he's obviously done this kind of thing before, and often. When he's done I leave him where he sits and I run--as best as I can as I'm now slightly woozy-- to find someplace to hide out until this--what ever this is-- is all over. I can't go back to Pearl's. Not after my failure, though I'd like to if only to see if my whistle is still there. I don't need it. It's just a thing, even if someone special gave it to me.

There's only one place I can think of to go right now, where I can hide out. I head for the library. At least there, the world is in order.
Last edited by the_crankmaster on Sun Dec 06, 2009 1:09 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

Postby Lich king » Fri Dec 04, 2009 2:57 pm

I had either lost my mind or I was dreaming, the whole sky seemed to have just ripped and all could think about was when were the freaking tentacles going to come streaming out of it. The world was ending and there was nothing I could do about it. I figured that maybe the doctor might know what was going on so I began running flat towards his lab. Now you might not know this, but when a werewolf runs as fast as it can you just about damn near can't see it, which is how I was able to get there within 3 minutes. Right when I reached the door that led to the tunnel my skin began to burn I looked at my hands as they began to change into clawed paws. It must have been due to the rip in the sky. I rushed into the tunnel still changing, hoping that the good doctor would know what to do.
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Re: The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

Postby ghisteslwchlohm » Sat Dec 05, 2009 8:36 am






“Stop!” barks Bats, just before Ohm can finish off another goon. He stopped him once before, and that was enough. Looking straight at him, just to let him know Ohm heard him, he finishes the kill with a snap. Anger fuming inside of him, the bat stomps up to him and growls in his face.

“You can’t kill these people! They must be dealt with legally.” Ohm can’t help but scoff at what he thought was ironic coming from a vigilante. “Killing is wrong. You can’t expect me to just let you go around slaughtering every thug in Wasusy. You may think you’re doing good, murdering the bad guys, but you’re really just another one of them.”

“Look bats, as cliché as it sounds, we aren’t really that different.” Ohm says, pausing a moment before beginning his speech. “We both devote ourselves to ridding this place of the disease that plagues it. We both work independently of the government and its methods of doing the very same. The only difference is that I provide an incentive for people to stop, or not even consider starting in the first place. While you send the scum to the prisons to live fat off the government you’re so willingly assisting, more thugs pour in to take their place. Even the ones stuffed into prison come back to continue doing what they enjoy best.”

"There's a fine line between right and wrong. What we do, we walk perilously close to that line. As soon as you cross it, there's no going back. You become like them. Worse than them. Worse than these hire-a-thugs. Because you think you're doing what's right. And you might be, superficially. You may be cleaning up the streets. But you've become another crazy. Just another menace in a mask." Batman growls

"When you become willing to kill to achieve your goals, you'd better be asking yourself why you're doing this. And when you arrive with an answer you’re satisfied with remember, I will be here doing what I do. And if your decision runs headfirst with what I do I will take you down along with the other evils in this town." With that self-righteous spiel Batman feels he might have gotten through, at least a little bit, to what good there might be in this man. The silence that follows shines even more hope in the single blood red eye of the man’s mask. Then he spoke.

“If someone disagreed with the way I did things, first, they would have to find me. Second, they would have to stop me. And then,” He pauses to put emphasis on the last words, “they would have to kill me.” The conversation is finished with a ring of irony, for here stood the man who had found him. Here towered the iconic figure of justice who could stop him. Here was the sole, desolate being in the universe that would not- could not- kill him.

The determination in Ohm’s voice and speech brought Batman deep into his thoughts. He thought about people’s unyielding intentions. Few are willing to fight to the death. Few would have the resolve to actually die. Even fewer who would do so to help me. He winces internally at the brief memory of Dick. He shoves that thought aside This cretin is nothing like him. This man has lost his humanity. He deserves no more sympathy than the ones we fight.

“You may do what you like. But there will always be consequences, and sooner or later they will catch up with you. Hopefully when that day comes I’ll be there. And you will look into my eyes and know, there is no sympathy here. And as long as I’m here there won’t be any more killing or, so help me, I will stop you.

“You might, but your morals will never stick. And so much for a moral impression. Right now you may be failing in your attempt to keep anyone from being killed. Your little buddy scampered off a while ago, and I’m guessing he didn’t hop in a fountain to wet his gills. Were I him, I’d be finishing off the innkeeper. Batman or not.”

Batman lapsed back into his anger, frustrated by this immobile wall of closed-off ideals. He wanted nothing more than to beat down this thug and dispense a heavy helping of cold, hard justice. But Batman knew Ohm might be right. He hadn’t had the proper time to make sure Francisco knew and would follow the terms of engagement. Pushing his anger aside he rushed in the direction the boy had gone. He hadn’t missed Paco’s escape from the bickering two, but he had been so enrapt with the dialogue that he didn’t think to stop him and supervise the apprehension of the other Fonesca.

Along the way Batman and Ohm didn’t speak. The debate was over, neither side the victor. Two impassive walls stood in the same respect as they had in the beginning. Nothing had changed other than Batman’s realization as to how far Ohm could go.

Batman rounded a corner and nearly ran over a woman. Batman just barely caught her before she went face first into his chest. She was sobbing uncontrollably and was visibly in a state of shock, as she didn’t even realize she had been stopped. He looks at her with a compassion he knew Ohm could never feel and that thought just made it even stronger. Batman realizes he completely forgot about Paco’s fiancé in the mess with the madman. He tries to calm her down enough to be useful, and he realizes Ohm had just waltzed past the pair and down on towards the goal. With this girl in tow he will move slightly slower, but he can’t leave her alone in this dungeon of filth and, now, death.

When Batman finally made it to the final room, the room where both the lawyer and the killer had gone to join the leader, he realized he was just too late. He left the girl slump into a corner outside of the room. No need to traumatize her anymore, who knows what happened in there. In the room Paco lay on a chair in the middle of the room, bleeding too much for comfort. Batman rushes to his side. Good, still alive. There is blood still rushing from his wound, and who knows just how long he has been there. Batman does a quick field dressing to patch him up temporarily, but knows he will need medical attention soon. Just on the other side of the boy Ohm is on the ground. Batman realizes he isn’t just on the ground. He realizes just too late that while he was worried about the son in the chair, he neglected the father. No... NO! Batman, having already gotten upset several times recently, is suddenly overcome with such intense rage he can barely control it. He roars with a beast-like fury and goes for the masked killer on the ground in front of him.





Last edited by ghisteslwchlohm on Sat Dec 05, 2009 9:11 am, edited 4 times in total.
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Re: The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

Postby mholhcwlsetsihG » Sat Dec 05, 2009 8:43 am





There are so few things that i truly enjoy, but this will be one of the greatest. I enjoy the death of any scum, but few of them are important enough for me to truly derive pleasure like this one. Never again will I have the opportunity to kill such an important man in the front of Batman, and have him powerless to stop me. I grab the bleeding mafia boss by the collar of his shirt and bring our faces side to side. His breathing is very light and very labored. With what little strength he has left he is babbling nearly silently in Spanish. I whisper into his ear, “I don’t speak Spanish, but I know what you are, and this time I’m making certain you stay…muerto.” I lower him to the ground and hold a hand to his neck. I can feel his weak muscles tighten as he struggles to swallow. His blood-stained shirt flows like-colored liquid to the ground. With my other hand I find other damaged vital parts and assist them in relieving the man of his life fluids. The pulse under my hand slows and weakens, and the beast beneath me is still and silent. Only a few moments more and my task is completely irreversible even now it would require immediate medical care, and the unflinching hand of God to save this sad excuse for and animal.

Thus, we end our short little adventure. And thus, you di- Suddenly everything goes white.




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Re: The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

Postby helios » Sat Dec 05, 2009 10:55 am

I hit him somewhat harder than I'd meant to. Dammit. That means I've lost control. I've lost the blue-ice rage, to the red-hot anger that is currently coursing through my veins. He drops to the floor. No way he was getting up anytime soon, but I tie him up anyway. I'm pretty sure he'll live.
I check Don Enri's pulse. Dammit. That damn man killed him. Bastard.
I check Francisco again. I'd best get him back to the Batcave, and Alfred.
I lift him, and carry him out. I sling his fiance over the other shoulder, and use a spare swing-line to lash them to me.

I reach the Batmobile, and lie them carefully in the back. I'm a touch annoyed that my... 'Guests'... Are no longer there. But I've got to get Francisco and his girl, Mali I think it was, back to the Batcave.
I drive straight through the centre of the city, taking the fastest route possible.
This route takes me past the Wasusy Times. Which, I now see is a pile of rubble.
With a group of vaguely normal people clustered around. Well, normal for Wasusy.
As I draw closer, I notice one of them is wearing some kind of animal-suit. And struggling to remove the head.
I almost passed the group by, when the animal-suited person managed to remove the head.
My eyes shootopen, wide open. It's Cla-Robin.
I swing the Batmobile around, and drive right up to the group. I fling open the door, and Growl;
"Get in!" My voice and expression leave no room for arguments, and she does so, animal-suit and all.

We hurtle in silence back to the Batcave. She doesn't want to talk about the suit, and I don't want to talk at all.
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Re: The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

Postby the_shankmaster » Sun Dec 06, 2009 3:13 am

BANG! BANG! BANG!

He fires three times, and all three times he hits her. She falls, her blood pooling around her. She's not dead, but she will be if I don't get her out of here soon. She's also in pain. She's crying and her eyes are full of pain. I fill with rage.

I turn to him and I roar as I go at him with my knife. He dodges. I don't know why he doesn't just shoot me. As I waste time getting myself turned around after I fly past him, he disarms me and my knife is on the ground.

"
Papi, I say. "Do you really think I only have one knife?"

"Do you really think I only took one?"

No.

I check myself for my spares.


No.

He laughs, that deep, from the chest laugh that makes me shiver and then he stabs me. With my own shank he stabs me. He slices me across my stomach and I fall to the ground. With my vision fading I see him walk to her. He helps her up from the ground and she no longer seems to be hurt, though her face is blank like she's in a daze. He holds her, and then he kisses her, and then it's dark.



When I wake up I'm not sure where I am at first, so I move to look around. When I do so, my side protests. I pull up my shirt to look, and my stab wound has been stitched shut. I reach up to my face, which is also sore, and there's a bandage where my father hit me with his gun. In this time I've recognized where I am. The Batcave. Maybe I should start paying rent. Mali is next to me. She's sleeping fitfully, so I hold her and she relaxes in my arms. I don't know how long I was gone or what happened after I checked out, but I'm in a safe place, and Mali is with me, so I'll worry about it later. I go back to sleep.
Last edited by the_shankmaster on Tue Dec 08, 2009 11:53 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: The P.I. Casefiles, Volume II

Postby xkazzoo » Sun Dec 06, 2009 9:06 pm

For the last time, it is not Grover Cleveland.

This game is stupid.

You just don't know how to play.

Hmph.








Franco, I need to let you in on something.

What?


I'm dying.

...


Does that mean I'm dying, too?

No, it means that you no longer need me. The world we live in is no longer a chaotic place. Well, it's crazy, but not as life threatening as it has been. That's why I was here, to make sure that you could do what you had to do to keep yourself and your friends alive. You didn't have access to the rage that I possess. If I weren't here to fight , you'd have been dead five times already. But now's my time to leave. You'll have to do the rest on your own, even if you are just a weak little s***.

Well, can't say I'll miss ya, but in the end, I guess I should thank you.


Just don't die like a dumbass before I have to come back, okay? That'll be thanks enough.

Wait, wha? Warren, what do you mean when you say you'll be back? Hey! Warren!

Goddammit.
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